Pieces
by Andatariel.x
Summary: I tried to be perfect, it just wasn’t worth it. Nothing could ever be so wrong Gregory can't take the constant arguments anymore and makes a mistake. GregoryChristophe. ONESHOT


**Pieces**

"This place is so empty  
My thoughts are so tempting  
I don't know how it got so bad  
Sometimes it's so crazy that nothing could save me  
But it's the only thing that I have

I tried to be perfect  
It just wasn't worth it  
Nothing could ever be so wrong  
It's hard to believe me  
It never gets easy  
I guess I knew that all along"

Pieces – Sum 41

One stupid argument. You insulted me. A lot. You implied I didn't care about you after the war and fuck Christophe that hurt. You insulted me again, I said "fuck you," because I was tired of your insults, you said I wanted to so I hit back and rejected you for the first time ever. I didn't even mean it; I just wanted to see if you'd even care. You did care. You told me nothing would ever happen again. You basically ended it, whatever it was. It sure as hell wasn't a relationship; we both knew that and every time I tried to find out if you wanted it to be as badly as I did you shut me out.

I replied with "Fine. Whatever." But it wasn't fine. I'm not fine. For the first time in ten years I wanted to cry. I haven't though. I typed up several messages after. Some angry, some full of apology. I didn't send any of them. You eventually replied. You called me a bitch. I didn't even know what to say back. You messaged again, we argued a little more and then we sort of made up.

The argument starts again the next morning because you say something offensive about a subject I'm sensitive about. I get defensive, I'm too tired and my head aches. I don't want to tell you quite how much you pissed me off because that might lead me into the fact that some of the things you said really made me think and now I don't know what to do.

You tell me you hate me, you tell me you love me and I don't know what to believe. One moment you want me the next you're right back to being horrible. I'm better off on my own. Sometimes I think maybe I'm worth more than this, sometimes I think I deserve it. I mostly just curse myself because I've never been as spineless about anything before.

You tell me to let it go but I can't, I have too many thoughts spinning around my head, too much confusion. I'm used to clear thinking, not this, I've never felt like such a train wreck. I look like one too, my eyes look dull and lifeless, they have dark circles under them and my hairs a mess and I can't even bring myself to fix it. I can't even bring myself to care about looking after myself; I've neither eaten nor slept. I tried to be perfect but it wasn't worth it. Once you told me I was perfect to you. Remembering that stings like hell.

I can't even stand to look in the mirror; I don't want to see myself. I know how bad I look. Long sleeves cover the fingerprints a client left on my arm but there's no covering the fading bruise on my cheek from my last proper fight with me father. The worst is the bites though, your marks, all over my neck. They're blotchy and purple against my skin, like a reminder that you have this hold over me.

I'm torn between telling you to get out of my life and telling you I'm sorry. I don't know which to do. I don't know how to fix it. I'm torn between loving you and wanting it to just end you're breaking me slowly and you don't even see it.

The house is empty. I feel isolated and alone. I've done it to myself, I know, I cut people off if they get even slightly close. There's nobody I trust, sometimes, briefly, I'll trust you, but somehow you always find a way to twist it around on me like you just did, I never want to tell you anything again.

I don't know when or how I got this bad. I used to be able to pull myself out of it, think of what I have not what's not going right. I want to. I want to put things into perspective and stop feeling so shit but I can't. Somewhere along the line something must have snapped because I can't seem to bring myself out of the depression, I used to care about causes enough that I could go and focus on how bad others have it and snap out of stressing over my own problems, I don't know when I lost that ability but it's gone. That isn't to say I don't try, I sit in front of the computer with a page open about war in lesser economically developed countries. My eyes won't focus on the words, my head drops into my arms. I can't do this.

Instead I lie on my back on the floor of the den for a few hours, I can't be bothered to move so instead I just stare at the ceiling as the light in the room fades. I need sleep which would probably be more likely if I went to bed but the bed, my whole room in fact, smells of you and I don't have the energy to clean it so it doesn't. My mother has sleeping pills. A plan forms in my mind because if I take them then hopefully I will be able to sleep, anywhere in the house, even if it is on the den floor.

I make my way into the other side of the house, into my parents bedroom, their en suit and I go through the medicine cabinet. I take a whole thing of sleeping pills and shove them into my pocket before heading to the kitchen to get water. I take two pills. An hour and a half later and my mind is still racing, I'm on the sofa in the den and I'm nowhere near sleep. It's dark out.

I don't know when or where in my mind it becomes a good idea to take more of the pills but I do, before I know I've taken around eight I think. I'm risking my life here and I don't even understand why.

I begin to get dizzy, I feel sick. I drink more water, trying to stop myself gagging. It doesn't work. I stumble for the bathroom. I throw up, only I haven't eaten for two days so it's acid and it burns. I feel weak as hell and I don't remain stable for long. I fall head connecting with the edge of the toilet hard enough to break the skin.

Oblivion sets in and the world finally fades to black. My last thought is that I really don't care if I ever wake up or not.


End file.
